My granddaughter and I had our first conversation in the delivery room, moments after she’d given her requisite lusty cry and been placed on her mother’s belly. I went over to have a look and to say hello. To my astonishment, she cooed right back at me. We had a few more vocal exchanges before the midwife said, “That’s enough of that,” and moved her onto the breast.

I guess the baby recognized my voice. My husband and I had been staying with her parents for the last two weeks, waiting for her to emerge.

My Buddhist friend said the baby was glad to see me, because she recognized me from her previous lives.

My husband said she was just confused about who she was supposed to bond with.

the rumbling
of the newborn’s guts
distant thunder

—First Honorable Mention, KYSO Flash HTP Writing Challenge

Sheila Sondik

is a poet and printmaker in Bellingham, Washington. In both art forms, she explores the manifold layers of consciousness and meaning in everyday moments. Her poetry in Japanese forms has been widely published since 2010 in journals and anthologies. In 2013, Egress Studio Press published her Fishing a Familiar Pond: Found Poems from The Yearling.

Author’s website: www.sheilasondik.com